Love Through Time
by DulcineaChampagne
Summary: Hermione Granger is on her way to the kitchens when she unexpectedly comes across a mysterious room. When she enters the room, she picks up something off the floor and her world turns to darkness. What will Hermione do when she finds herself thrust back in time, facing the challenge of completing her final year at Hogwarts alongside the infamous dark wizard Tom Riddle?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger smiled as she watched Harry and Ron bicker about chess. It was great seeing them so passionate about such small, everyday things even though there was an incredible, bloody war raging on in the background. They were staying in Hogwarts, and had been for a while, as the Order had decided it would be safest for the time being. It was nice being back at Hogwarts, but every now and then she wished she could go and visit her parents. They were in Australia, though, and that was really too far - and of course it would be too dangerous - for her to travel whilst in the thick of war.

She decided to go up to get some food from the kitchens. Even though the house elves were still at Hogwarts doing all the cooking, she didn't feel right getting them to bring them food. Glancing quickly at Harry and Ron, and assuring herself they wouldn't notice her disappearance, she gathered her robes and tiptoed her way out of the room and to the kitchen. When she was almost there, she stopped. Almost as if she were compelled to do so, instead of following the corridor to the kitchen, she turned and went up a flight of stairs. Puzzled, she found herself in front of a large wooden door with a shiny gold handle. She was intrigued, as she'd never seen this door before, despite having scouted out this area before many times with Harry, Ron and other members of the Order. She grasped the door knob and twisted it. The door opened with a click. Hermione pulled the door open slowly with her left hand, her wand in her other hand in case anything surprising happened to lay behind the door.

Inside the room was...nothing. It was completely empty. Hermione entered the room, feeling a little bit let down. She had thought there would at least be something exciting inside, like a new book, or something to indicate what its use had been in the past. No such luck. Sighing to herself disappointedly, she was about to leave the and continue on her way to the kitchens when she caught something glinting in the corner of her eye. She reached out and picked it up off the ground, but as she did so all of a sudden everything went dark.

* * *

Everything was blurry. All she could see was white. Stretching, she sat up and blinked a couple of times to try and help her eyes focus. She was on a bed, in some sort of hospital by the look of it. There were multiple beds in the room, all neatly tucked in with starched white sheets. Light was streaming through the windows. It must be daytime.

Hermione heard a door shut, followed by brisk footsteps which sounded like they coming towards her.

"Oh good, you're awake," a warm voice remarked. A lady dressed in white robes wearing a white cap with a red cross on it smiled kindly at Hermione. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Hermione smiled back. "I'm feeling fine, I think," she replied, running her hands through her thick chestnut hair. The lady seemed like a nurse of some kind, maybe a healer. Hermione wasn't aware of any healers having been stationed at Hogwarts though. They were low on healers, and the ones they had were consequently always busy tending to injuries members of the Order acquired during the war.

"That's good," the lady nods. "We were quite worried about you, finding you unconscious. Do you remember much of what happened?"

Hermione shakes her head. "Not really," she replies. "All I remember is reaching down to pick something up, and then everything disappeared and I woke up here." Hermione bit her lip nervously. She had a strange feeling, a sense of déjà vu. Now that she had thought about it, her present location seemed very much like the infirmary at Hogwarts. They couldn't possibly _be _in the infirmary though, because it had been all but destroyed the year before in a death eater raid on Hogwarts.

"May I ask, who are you, and where am I? I'm feeling a little disoriented," Hermione asked the woman.

"Of course, my apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I am Madame Bark, head healer at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly. At present, you are in the infirmary here at Hogwarts."

Hermione's eyes widen. For her to be in the infirmary a Hogwarts would be impossible. She had never heard of a healer in the order called Madame Bark, either. Surely this was some kind of trick, a joke, Harry and Ron were playing on her. Surely. There was no other way... The only other alternative was perhaps she had been caught by the death eaters, and they were in her mind, doing something to it using legilimency. But even if that were the case, surely they wouldn't have made her dream that she was in Hogwarts? Surely they'd make her think that something terrible was happening to her, because there was no other way they would possibly treat a member of the Order so close to Harry Potter.

Maybe, just maybe, she was in a dream. Yes, that could be it. She could be dreaming. Hermione pinched herself hard, right in the sensitive crook by her elbow. If she was dreaming, surely she'd wake up after pinching herself that hard. There was no way a dream could be this realistic.

Pinching herself again, she frowned. She still wasn't going anywhere else. She was still in that white room, surrounded by all those white, neat beds, and Madame Bark was still standing their in front of her. The only difference was Madame Bark had raised her eyebrows ever so slightly in response to Hermione's lack of response to her introduction.

Hermione shook her head, as if to clear her mind. "I'm dreadfully sorry for my manners, Madame Bark. My name is Hermione. I must have hit my head when I fell," Hermione said, offering a small smile to the matronly woman. It was all she could really do - despite her confusion, she had always been raised to be polite with people, especially with strangers.

"That's quite all right, Hermione," Madame Bark replied. "The headmaster was wanting to speak with you once you were feeling better, it's best if we make our way to his office as soon as you feel able."

Hermione nodded, and then asked, "May I ask who the headmaster is?" She was very curious as to who the headmaster of Hogwarts might be. It might shed some light as to what kind of a situation she was in - whether she was in a dream, or if someone was playing with her memories, or a trick played by Harry or Ron.

Madame Bark looked startled at her question. "Why, of course the headmaster of Hogwarts is Armando Dippet. He has been the headmaster of Hogwarts since the early 1900s."

If the headmaster of Hogwarts was Professor Dippet, then that placed her quite a fair bit in the past. Professor Dippet had been headmaster of Hogwarts since the 1900s, and then had retired as far as she remembered sometime around 1955, at which point he was replaced by Professor Dumbledore, who had been headmaster of Hogwarts while Hermione had attended the school in the early 1990s. This meant either she was having a very interesting dream, someone was messing around in her head to make her believe she was in Hogwarts sometime in the past, or the unthinkable had happened and she had somehow been sent back in time. As she had already figured out just before, it probably wasn't a dream – so it must be either of the two alternatives. Harry and Ron wouldn't have been able to play a joke as elaborate as this – and she highly doubt they'd have the motivation to do so either. Fred and George were the tricksters after all, and this wasn't the kind of trick they liked to play. She hoped that there wasn't anyone using legilimency on her though, because that would mean someone had gotten into Hogwarts. Which left her with that last alternative: time travel.

"Well then," Madame Bark said to Hermione, her hands on her hips. "I am going to quickly collect my notes from my office and lock up, and then we will be on our way."

Hermione nodded. She stood up, and stretched. Her body ached from lying down for so long. She wondered how long she had been unconscious for.

On the small table beside her bed, there was a small silver pendant. It was in the shape of a heart, with letters on it that she couldn't make out. Hermione picked it up, and meaning to inspect it closer, sat down and used her wand to magnify it. She still couldn't really make out what the letters were – they weren't runes, nor were they letters of the latin alphabet. They didn't look like anything Asian either, like Chinese or Japanese. It was a pretty locket though. Maybe it was the object she had picked up just before she had blacked out?

She didn't get very long to ponder the pendant, however, as very soon Madame Bark had returned, and was waiting for Hermione to follow her to Professor Dippet's office.

Walking through the undamaged corridors of Hogwarts, Hermione felt a small amount of joy bubble up within her. It was a good feeling, walking through the ancient school as it had been before the war began. It felt more secure, more like home. They were very soon on their way up the staircase to Professor Dippet's office.

* * *

Professor Dippet was a pale man of average stature, with brown eyes and a thick white beard. He looked rather frail and feeble, and the little hair he had left on the top of his head was wispy. It was as to be expected though, Hermione reasoned. After all, if her estimations were correct, he would have to be at least 250 years old. She remembered from Rita Skeeter's book _Armando Dippet: Master or Moron?_ that Professor Dippet was born in 1637, and first attended Hogwarts in 1649. If he was teaching at Hogwarts, then there was a high chance that Professor Dumbledore might also be at Hogwarts – although as a transfiguration professor rather than headmaster. Hermione figured she would find out soon enough.

"Professor Dippet, this is Hermione, the student we found in the room near the kitchens," Madame Bark told professor Dippet.

The wizened wizard nodded at her. "Thank you, Wilhemina."

Madame Bark nodded back. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to the infirmary. With the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin due to begin in a few minutes time, I don't doubt someone will be in the infirmary needing some Skelegrow fairly soon." At that, Madame Bark left Hermione and Professor Dippet alone in the headmaster's office.

* * *

This is my first time writing a fanfic, so I'm still getting the hang of it. Hopefully someone will read this first chapter and will enjoy it :-). Let me know if you have any comments, or any suggestions: this story is a work in progress! I will update sometime in the next couple of days. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Dippet smiled at Hermione. "It is good to see that you have at last awakened, Miss….?"

"Granger," Hermione answered, smiling back.

"Miss Granger. I trust it must be very confusing waking up in a strange place, not knowing where you are. Please, take a seat. I'm sure we have much to discuss." He gestured at the leather chair before his desk.

Taking a seat, Hermione smoothed out her robes. "Thank you, Professor Dippet. Although I'm not entirely sure what I can say about the situation. You see, I'm not entirely sure how I happened to find my way here," she told him.

Raising an eyebrow, he tapped his wand absent-mindedly on the edge of his armchair. "Indeed?" He asked her, curiously.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor. All I remember is happening upon a room which I had never seen before. When I entered the room, I realized it was empty, apart from this," she told the headmaster, producing the pendant she had found on her bedside table.

She placed the pendant on the table, in case Professor Dippet wished to inspect it, and continued. "I don't know what happened after that. I picked this up, and the next thing that I can remember is waking up in the infirmary."

Glancing up at the headmaster's face, she could see that he was considering her situation.

"I do not doubt that you found yourself unconscious, and consequently in the infirmary, but I find it difficult to understand how we happened to find you in Hogwarts. We have no records of anyone of your name coming to visit Hogwarts," Professor Dippet told her, looking at her doubtfully. Clearly he did not think she was telling him the entire truth.

Hermione swallowed hard. This was going to be very difficult. She had read in his biography by Rita Skeeter that Dippet was not know for being particularly trustful of people. She hadn't known exactly how correct Skeeter's biography of Dippet was, considering Hermione's personal experiences with the journalist, but it seemed that some of it at least was based on fact.

"Professor Dippet, when exactly did I wake up?" she asked. Maybe if she could figure out when exactly she was, she could work out what to do from this point. If Professor Dumbledore was already at Hogwarts, she could perhaps ask to speak with him, for surely Dumbledore would believe her.

"You woke up today, my dear, and today is Tuesday." Professory Dippet informed her, not unkindly.

"What year is it, Professor?" Hermione asked him. She winced slightly, as she knew he would view this as a rather odd question, but she had no choice but to ask him.

"Year?" The white-haired old man replied, surprised. His brown eyes regarded her with skepticism. Perhaps he was skeptical as to whether she retained all her mental faculties after her stint in the infirmary. "Why, of course it is 1944. When else would it be?" He told her.

1944? That meant the second muggle world war was currently underway, and that she was more than fifty years in the past! It also meant that Professor Dumbledore should, if she was correct, already be teaching at Hogwarts.

"If I may sir, I don't want to be rude, but could I by any chance speak to Professor Dumbledore?" she asked Professor Dippet hopefully.

"You may speak to Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, but only after you explain to me how you came to be within the castle. Are you at Hogwarts visiting the Professor?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded quickly. "Yes, I am," she lied. "He wasn't expecting me, hence why I'm most probably not on your list of visitors to the school. I really do apologise for the inconvenience," she added hurriedly, hoping that her story sounded plausible enough for her to fetch Dumbledore. She was convinced that if she could get a few minutes with Dumbledore they would be able to iron everything out, and she would be able to better understand her situation.

"Why, you should have said so sooner, Miss Granger. I shall send for Professor Dumbledore at once," he told her. "He must be quite worried about you, then, for you to have been missing for so many hours."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I'm sure he is. I hope he isn't too worried."

Within a couple of minutes, she heard the sound of stone sliding across stone from downstairs, and very soon Albus Dumbledore emerged into the Headmaster's office.

"Armando," Dumbledore nodded to the headmaster in acknowledgement.

"Albus," Dippet replied. "This young lady, Miss Hermione Granger, says she is visiting you here at Hogwarts," Dippet told him, indicating Hermione.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione. Apart from a hint of surprise in his eyes, he seemed unperturbed by her appearance. "Is she indeed? Well then, I believe she will have to accompany me to my office, so that we may discuss her visit," he said.

* * *

"Well, my dear, you are here to visit me, are you?" Dumbledore asked Hermione, eyes twinkling with curiosity. He flicked his wand, and a steaming pot of tea and two teacups appeared on his desk, one for Hermione and one for him. The teapot poured tea out into each of the cups on its own, and then disappeared. He invited her to accept a cup of tea.

Hermione nodded, and gratefully sipped at the tea. Chamomile tea – she could trust Dumbledore to be so perceptive as to offer a complete stranger calming tea. "Thank you, Professor. Yes, I am here to see you, although it happened quite by accident." She relayed to him exactly what had happened back in the mysterious room, and nervously awaited his response.

He tapped his temple with his fingers, and then responded. "So you lost consciousness, and then you found yourself in the infirmary with Madame Bark, is that correct?" Dumbledore asked her.

Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"And how did you happen to find yourself in Hogwarts to begin with, Miss Granger? I am not aware of having met you before," Dumbledore asked her.

"That's the difficult part, professor. You see the thing is, I do know you, but you don't know me. If my calculations are correct, and I know this is going to sound completely implausible, but I think I am from the future," she told him. "I don't know how it happened, or why, but I think it has something to do with the pendant I showed Professor Dippet earlier in his office."

Dumbledore's eyes widened at this. Hermione wondered if they were widening in disbelief, or if he were beginning to think she were a little bit…well, insane.

Dumbledore inhaled deeply. "The future, you say?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yes, professor. I don't know how I can prove it to you without breaking the laws on time-travel, but I swear I am from the future. If this is 1944, then I've come back at least 50 years – because I didn't start at Hogwarts until 1991!" Hermione told him.

Dumbledore chuckled. "And I am still a transfiguration professor in 1991?" he asked her.

Hermione shook her head. "No, Professor. When I start at Hogwarts you're the headmaster. That's how I know you."

Dumbledore seemed taken aback at this. Hermione guessed he probably hadn't thought that far into the future. It made sense though, because Dippet was getting fairly on in age.

"This pendant, would you produce it for me?" Dumbledore asked Hermione.

She pulled the pendant out of her robes, and placed it into his open hand. He inspected it curiously, casting various spells with his wand. Hermione recognized a few of them as being detection spells – spells designed to reveal whether or not the pendant was enchanted.

With a sigh, Dumbledore placed the pendant on the desk and pushed it back towards Hermione. "There is only one way to verify the veracity of your story, my dear, without breaching the rules of time travel – if indeed you are from the future," he said, turning his back on Hermione for a moment to reach for something on his shelf.

With two hands, he offered to her what appeared to be the sorting hat. "This is the soring hat, which I am sure you will be familiar with, if you have indeed studied at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the future. If you wouldn't mind placing it on your head?" he passed her the Sorting Hat.

She placed the hat on her head, almost excitedly. Perhaps the sorting hat would be able to shed some light on what was going on.

* * *

_ "Mmmmm. Hermione Granger, are we? It's the first time I've ever met a true time-traveller, I can tell you that," the Sorting Hat told her in an amused, interested tone. _

_"So that's it, is it? I've been sent back in time?" Hermione asked the Sorting Hat. She didn't really know what she wanted the answer to be. She was sort of still hoping that it was a dream and that she would soon wake up, despite all the evidence to the contrary. _

_The Sorting Hat chuckled. "Yes you are! Isn't that exciting? You're probably the first person to ever travel so far back in time!"_

_Hermione shivered. "Seriously? But how is that magically possible?" she asked the Sorting Hat. _

_It replied, "I don't know. It's not for me to know. I'm just a hat, after all, even though I am a rather handsome, intelligent, sentient hat. It probably has something to do with that pendant you picked up though."_

_She wondered what she should do. _

_"What should you do?" the Sorting Hat mimicked her thoughts. "Something's telling me you're supposed to stay at Hogwarts!"_

_"At Hogwarts?"_

_The Sorting Had nodded on her head. "Yes, stay at Hogwarts and do your final year. I've seen glimpses of your future, Hermione. Something in my soul, whatever soul I might have, tells me you've been sent here for a reason!"_

* * *

"She's telling the truth, Albus. If allowed to do so, she should be sorted into Gryffindor house to finish her studies," the Sorting House said aloud, abruptly shaking Hermione out of her mind and back into the real world.

"Very well then," Dumbledore responded, eyes twinkling. "I shall see to it that you are provided with the requisite materials to begin your studies at Hogwarts. You are in your final year?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"I shall speak to the headmaster. For the time being, it is probably best if we come up with a plausible explanation as to why you are suddenly transferring to Hogwarts. The school term has not yet begun, which is highly convenient," he said.

Hermione considered her options. It was probably best to say she had transferred from another Wizarding School, perhaps Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, or Durmstrang. She didn't speak much French, so Durmstrang would probably be the best cover story she could pull off. Viktor had spoken fairly good English... On the other hand, she didn't speak Bulgarian, or any language other than English really, so pretending to be from Durmstrang probably wouldn't work very well. Were magical children homeschooled? She supposed she could give it a go. If Dumbledore thought it was too strange an idea, she was certain he would come up with another suggestion.

"We could tell the headmaster that I have been home schooled, but due to the global wizarding war my family has requested that I complete my final year at Hogwarts in order to ensure my safety," she suggested.

Dumbledore nodded. "That sounds like a plausible explanation. We need more detail, however, in order to enroll you at Hogwarts." He flicked his wand, and papers appeared on his desk. "It would be best for you to assume the identity of one of my thirteenth cousins twice-removed, to avoid the headmaster asking too many questions. It would also explain why you sought me out," he told her. "Let us fill these in together, and then I shall go and speak with the headmaster and show you to where you will be staying."

Hermione and Dumbledore filled in the forms. The most important, for Hermione's cover's purposes, said:

_Name: Hermione Granger _

_Parents: Wendell and Monica Granger_

_Born: 19__th__ September 1926, England_

_Education History: Home-schooling (1938 – 1944)_

_Academic History – Ordinary Wizarding Level Results (1943):_

· _Charms: Outstanding_

· _Transfiguration: Outstanding_

· _Herbology: Outstanding_

· _Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding_

· _Ancient Runes: Outstanding_

· _Potions: Outstanding_

· _Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding_

· _Astronomy: Outstanding_

· _History of Magic: Outstanding_

_Courses not taken: Divination_.

Hermione slept restlessly that night, falling to sleep only after mulling over her predicament dozens of times. She didn't know how she would deal with things come morning, but all she could really do was make the most of where she was. She hoped Harry and Ron weren't too worried about her in the future.

* * *

I couldn't resist writing another chapter. I can't wait for Tom & Hermione to finally meet! I promise it'll be in the next chapter or two though :-). Thanks for reading girls & guys!

* * *

Forgot to mention this last chapter, but I don't own any of these characters - they all belong to JK Rowling! Hermione's parents' names are taken from the false names she gave to her parents when she sent them to Australia. I do happen to own Madame Bark from chapter one though :-).

* * *

I have made a few changes to this chapter since I posted it yesterday - the changes are:

* Instead of being from Durmstrang, Hermione's cover story is going to be that she was homeschooled

* Her surname is just going to be Granger, rather than Wilkins - I figured this would be less confusing.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione had thought long and hard about her predicament last night, as she tossed and turned in bed. She had studied all she could about time travel when she had been given the time turner a few years prior, and couldn't think of any possible theory which could explain how a pendant could have sent her back in time. The only possible hypothesis she could come up with was that it was some kind of modified portkey, but even something like that would require immense quantities of magic, and knowledge in a field where magical expertise was intensely sparse.

Dumbledore had provided her with everything she required, although he had promised to enable her to go to Diagon Alley on her own if she found the things provided by him at all lacking. After all, he had agreed that she would be his 'cousin', and as such, he had an obligation to ensure she was well provided for. They had not really discussed her situation again at great length; perhaps it was because he recognised the futility of trying to send her back to the future. Any magic which had sent her back in time would have to have been dark magic, and Dumbledore was as pure as the driven snow. The old wizard had goodness permeating every bone in his body, and would never in a million years use dark magic, even if it were to send an innocent young girl back to where she belonged.

She didn't know what had become of her time, of Harry, Ron, and the war; all she could really do was figure out her place in this new world, and perhaps try and change the past in order to provide herself and her friends with a better future.

Slipping into her robes, Hermione sighed as she tried to pull and prod her hair until it calmed down such that she looked semi-respectable. The other students were supposed to be arriving today, in anticipation of the beginning of the new school year, and if she was going to have any luck assimilating into the pre-existing year group she was to join, she would need to try and seem...somewhat normal.

Glancing at herself once more in the mirror, she rolled her eyes to herself and made her way to the great hall for breakfast.

* * *

Empty. The great hall was completely, utterly empty. The room lit up as she entered it, though, the roof assuming the appearance of the sky outside. It was a beautiful, clear, sunny day, with not a cloud in the sky. She supposed it wouldn't be too bad to have to eat breakfast by herself; it was the first time in a long time that she hadn't had to think about Death Eaters, keeping safe and using protection spells and wards. It was almost peaceful, really. She felt sort of guilty about leaving Harry and Ron behind, though there wasn't really much she could do about that.

Sitting down, she dug into the food which magically appeared on the lone table occupied by her in the great hall, savouring the tasty nosh. She hadn't had a decent meal in Merlin knew how long. There was bacon, eggs, sausages, bread, hashbrowns, mushrooms, and an unlimited supply of steaming pumpkin juice!

Her meal was interrupted ever so slightly by the noise of a bench grating across the floor as someone took their seat across the other side of the great hall.

Hermione swallowed nervously, and glanced over to where the other person sat. This was the first ever student she was to meet from this time, and she didn't know what to expect. The other person was seated on the far side of the great hall, at the table at which the students from Slytherin sat in her time. He caught her looking at him, and flashed her a small smile.

_Huh_, she thought to herself. _A smiling Slytherin_. She supposed there was always the opportunity for something to happen for the first time. She smiled back, and continued eating her breakfast.

The other person was indeed a member of Slytherin house, as his robes and bright green tie obviously indicated. He had jet black hair, slicked back in a style similar to those preferred by hot-shot movie starts in the 50s, parted slightly to the side to allow his curly bangs to brush the side of his face. His skin was as pale as canvas which had been triple-coated in white paint, and his features strong and refined. He looked like one of those models Hermione had seen advertising Calvin Klein underwear the last time she had gone to a muggle mall. He was probably the most handsome gentleman Hermione had ever seen, had she been willing to admit that to herself. As it was, she was relatively unfazed by his masculine beauty, continuing to eat her breakfast with great delight.

Gradually other students began to stream into the great hall in drips and drabs, plonking themselves down at one of the four long tables, until eventually the room was about a quarter full. A gaggle of Gryffindors introduced themselves to Hermione before long, and she was pleased to make her acquaintance with Penelope Weasley, Rose Potter, Jonathan Longbottom and Elizabeth "Beth" Dworkins.

Penelope looked a lot like her relatives from the future: she had firey red hair, snipped off just below her chin in a bob-cut, a slender figure, and emerald eyes. Rose, on the other hand, didn't look that much like Harry, although she did have the dark Potter hair. Jonathan was a shorter, reedier version of Neville, and Beth was a plain-looking girl with mousy-brown hair.

Penelope explained that they were all in their final year at Hogwarts, and that they had been very surprised to hear (along the grapevine) that there was new student joining their year group. They asked Hermione her circumstances, and why she had decided to go to Hogwarts. Hermione supposed it was at last time for her to test her cover story.

"I was home schooled before this, but my family and I decided that it would be best - considering the wizarding war going on with Grindelwald - for me to do my final year at Hogwarts," she explained to the four of them, hoping they wouldn't ask her too many questions.

They all nodded. "Well we're glad that you're able to join us, Hermione. You can never have too many Gryffindors, especially with those slimey Slytherins lurking around dark corridors at night!" Beth piped up.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure whether Beth was joking about the latter half of her sentence. This must have shown on her face, as Jonathan misinterpreted her reaction, thinking she was confused about what Beth was said.

"Slytherin is one of the four houses we have here at Hogwarts," Jonathan explained. "You've been sorted into Gryffindor?" he asked Hermione.

She nodded.

Jonathan continued. "When each student first arrives at Hogwarts, they get sorted into one of four houses. The four houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The snazzy people - like us five here - are all in Gryffindon. Ravenclaws tend to be known for their smarts, Hufflepuffs for their kind natures, and Slytherins for being sly, lying gits," he explained to her, grinning as he said the last part.

Rose nudged him with her elbow, making Jonathan exhale sharply.

"Well, _I _think they are sly, lying, good-for-nothing gits. Rosie-posie over here fancies the ever-enchanting, dashingly handsome Tom Riddle, so she may not necessarily share my opinion," he told Hermione, smirking good-humouredly at Rose.

Hermione's entire body went cold. How could she have forgotten! Tom Riddle - also known as Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord - was at Hogwarts in 1944. Unintentionally, she choked on some egg and hurriedly flushed it down with a pint of pumpkin juice.

"See!" Jonathan exclaimed. "Even Hermione agrees, and she hasn't even met Riddle!" he grinned, slapping Hermione on the back.

After this conversation, they quintet continued their breakfast, with Hermione listening in to all the adventures they had had in summer 1944. She zoned out after a while, pondering the issue of Tom Marvolo Riddle, soon-to-be Lord Voldemort and destroyer of innumerable lives. She didn't even know what he looked like, as all her encounters with him had been with the deformed, snake-like being which barely resembled a man.

She had a couple of options, really.

The most obvious was that she could kill him now, or rather, as soon as possible, and be done with it. Sure, she would end up in Azkaban, but her altruism would potentially save the lives of hundreds and thousands of other people.

Another option included confiding in Professor Dumbledore. She remembered that he had been suspicious of Voldemort, even when he had still been at school, so she thought that he would most probably believe him. They could then figure out a course of action together.

Her third option was to do nothing. Hermione shook her head at this last option. She would not be able to stay silent and let time run its previously determined course, even if it meant changing the future she had come from: the more lives she was able to save, the better.

She supposed what she needed to do, really, was meet Riddle, and then decide what to do from there. She had plenty of time, or at least, until they both finished Hogwarts, before he started doing truly dreadful things.

* * *

It's not quite as long as the previous chapters, but I thought it was a good point to end the current scene. I'll get onto the next chapter ASAP - plenty of idea bunnies bouncing around in my head. What do you guys think of the pace so far? I'm trying to balance keeping it descriptive and detailed with moving the story along, but I'm afraid of making it too slow/too fast.

Thanks for reading! You guys rock :-)

~DulcineaChampagne.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione still hadn't had a chance to actually meet Tom Riddle yet, although she had virtually all of the same classes with him. She had known he was head boy, yet she hadn't known that it was because he was an academic – she had always thought it was perhaps something to do with Quidditch, or perhaps he excelled at a certain subject in particular.

This particular afternoon, Hermione was in the Hogwarts library, looking for books to use in her research for Advanced Runes. She spotted a very interesting book, entitled _Advanced Runes for Unexpected and Mysterious Magical Situations_, on the very top shelf. Frowning to herself, she scanned the library for a stool, but couldn't manage to find one. It didn't occur to her to conjure up a stool, or perhaps transfigure a book into a stool (although this would have been against her morals, which demanded she treat books with the utmost respect, as they were deserving of it), so she determinedly stretched up onto her tiptoes in an attempt to reach the book. Unfortunately, she wasn't very successful; her fingertips barely scraped the bottom of the spine of the book. She didn't really want to embarrass herself by jumping up to get it, but neither did she want to admit defeat in the face of an adversary she was sure she could beat.

Gearing up to stretch her slim body of average height to its absolute limit in order to pull the ancient tome from its comfortable home, she was flabbergasted when an alabaster arm reached over her head and plucked the book from the shelf effortlessly. Whoever had taken the book, _her book_, as she was so obviously trying to get it, was going to face her wrath – unless, of course, they were getting it for her. If they were getting it for her, though, surely they would have offered _first_ and then physically committed the act of acquiring the book and passing it to her. She turned towards this person, whoever they were, her hands on her hips and her mouth pursed in annoyance. She came face to face with a green vest and a green tie, both items of clothing colours which only a _Slytherin_ would wear.

_How dare a Slytherin take her book!_ Her face darkened several shades, such that it was a bright, angry red, as she prepared to bark at the boy who had dared take _her_ runes book. She was pre-empted, however, by a pale hand abruptly extending beneath her nose, its owner waiting expectantly for her to shake it.

The owner of the hand also introduced himself. "I'm Tom Riddle," he said, exposing his pearly whites in a far too charming smile. "I don't think we've met," he said.

Hermione grudgingly took his hand in hers and shook it, not taking note of his name. She really, truly wanted that book. For all the trouble she had gone to, and all the hardships she had experienced, in her quest to obtain it, she just had to incorporate it in her essay somehow.

"Hermione Granger," she said shortly, smiling the exact amount required by politeness. She seemed as if she were about to grab the book, forcibly, from his right hand. "Now, that book –"

"This book?" he teased, lifting the book high above her head.

She nodded, the corners of her mouth drooping in ever-growing annoyance. Whoever this Slytherin was, he was an absolute pest. "I need it, for my Advanced Runes class. I was here first, and I was clearly trying to get it down from that shelf up there, so I have the right to use it _before _you do," she told him sternly.

She hoped he would give the book to her and leave her alone. She did not have time for this Slytherin, whether he be the ancestor of Crabbe or Draco Malfoy. She didn't even care if he was descended was Salazar Slytherin himself! She paled at the thought. What did he say his name was again? She could have sworn he had said his name was Tom Riddle. Inhaling sharply, for the first time she truly looked at the person who had so inconveniently made themselves an obstacle between her and the book. She mentally berated herself for being a dolt, and being so focused on her studies that she didn't even realize she was talking to Voldemort himself!

He seemed to notice her sharp intake of breath, although in actual fact he misinterpreted it as an indication of Hermione's annoyance with him. He smirked, his dark eyes glowing. "Sure, I'll give it back to you, Hermione," he told her, lowering his book-grasping hand slightly. "But on one condition," he told her.

Voldemort was talking to her! She couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it almost, but she knew it was going to happen eventually. She did need to get to know him, sort of, in order to determine her course of action with regards to how she was going to deal with the issue of him becoming a terrible dark wizard who was going to murder a truckload of people. If she managed to get the runes book she was after in the process, then perhaps his condition wouldn't be so bad.

"Right. And that condition would be?" she enquired, facing him squarely, her voice rising ever so slightly at the end of the sentence. Whatever it was, it couldn't be that bad. If Rose had a crush on him, and if everything she had heard about him being a model student was correct, then there was no way he would do anything dangerous, like _crucio_ her or force her to dissect house elves. She shivered at _that _thought.

"Well the thing this, you see, we're both doing Advanced Runes," he said.

_Way to point out the obvious,_ Hermione thought. She wished he would get to the point.

"And we're both writing the same essay. And, from what I can see, anyway, both of us appear to have decided to use _this_ book," he continued, waving the ancient book in the air, its yellowing pages breathing a microscopic storm of dust into the air.

Hermione nodded impatiently.

"My condition is that we both use this book _together_ to study advanced runes," he told her, a strange tone in his voice. He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling.

She eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean by _together_?" she asked him warily. She wanted to get to know Tom Riddle, but she didn't like studying in groups, especially not with strange boys in Slytherin of all houses! A Ravenclaw, or a fellow Gryffindor, she could put up with, perhaps, but a Slytherin was definitely pushing her study boundaries. And why was he being so nice? Tom Riddle, in her time, was the most terrible wizard the wizarding world had seen for generations.

"By together, I mean together. If you aren't keen, of course, I don't mind using the book on my own of course, but if you were wanting to use the book too, that's the only way you'll be able to access it. You see the thing is, I put this book on hold around about seven - [he glanced at his watch] – no, eight and a half minutes ago with Madam Tiddleplank. That means that technically, I'm entitled to have possession of this very book until two days after our essay is due," he said, his voice assuming a hint of smugness.

"Right," Hermione said in response, considering his condition. She really was still annoyed that he had taken the book, and also that he wanted to study together with her, but this was offset by the fact that he was Voldemort, and she did need to get to know him. She supposed it probably wouldn't hurt to agree to his condition, although she wondered why he wanted to study with her. Sighing in resignation, she stuck out her hand. "Deal," she told him.

Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle shook hands for the second time in the space of eight and a half minutes, in the runes section of the library, with dust mites swirling around them. At last he surrendered the book to Hermione, only momentarily of course, and they quickly discussed how, when and where they were going to share their study of _Advanced Runes for Unexpected and Mysterious Magical Situations_ together.

* * *

Hermione had met with the Slytherin head boy a further two times since then to work on their runes project. She had to admit, he certainly had a fair deal of productive grey matter in his raven-hair covered skull. He wasn't too nasty, either, considering her expectations of him. She was almost expecting him to burst out "just joking!" some time and assume his horrible, cold personality she had the impression he must inevitably have, considering his preference for the killing curse in the future.

She was meeting him this morning to study in the library together. It was Sunday; a day generally known and used for resting on, rather than intense study, but the first segment of their assignment had to be handed in at the end of class the next day. The book wasn't of much use for this part of the assignment, as the first segment really only required a brief overview which would have been easily satisfied by the material provide in _Ancient Runes Made Easy_. However, both Hermione and Tom had studied Ancient Runes the year before (although Hermione had had to tell him she had been home-schooled in it), and they didn't want their written work to be on par with what they had done in sixth year. They both had in common the characteristic of a multitude of ambition, with both desperately wanting to achieve Outstanding. Or rather, that was the impression Tom had made on Hermione in the brief number of hours they had spent studying ancient runes together.

He was doing what appeared to be an arithmancy essay, judging from the innumerable complex number charts arrayed on the large wooden group-study table, when she found him at their usual spot in the library. They liked to study by the reference section of the library, so that they had easy access to various reference books on runes, such as _Advanced Rune Translation_ and the _Rune Dictionary _by _Merge Publications_. Hermione remembered fondly trying to use the _Rune Dictionary_ to translate her copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ given to her by Dumbledore. She wistfully thought of her own copy of the dictionary, abandoned decades in the future.

Glancing down over his shoulder, she whistled in admiration. "Those are some pretty impressive calculations. Whose future are you trying to predict?" she asked him, skim reading his essay and mathematical calculations.

"Not telling," he told her, quickly slipping the scroll into his bag and replacing it with their Advanced Runes material. She considered pressing him for more information but decided not to, instead pulling out her assignment and writing materials.

Before long, they had both completed their first segments, and were a dozen paragraphs into the second.

"So, home-schooling, huh?" Tom asked her, placing down his quill. He raised a curious eyebrow at her, waiting for some kind of answer.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, home-schooling. What about it?" she asked him in return. She hadn't told anyone much about her experiences, other than the bare bones of her cover story. The less detail she gave to people, the less she had to remember.

Tom shrugged. "Well what's it like? Compared to Hogwarts, I mean," he said.

Hermione hadn't actually home-schooled, but in her spare time (since arriving in the past) she had made certain to read about other peoples' experiences in home-schooling, so she had some idea of what it was like.

"It was different, that's for sure," she told him.

He raised his other eyebrow. He was expecting a longer answer from her. "Different how?" he asked.

She thought a bit before continuing. She didn't know what he was getting at. She could just tell him fairly standard information that most people would generally associate with home-schooling.

"My family is from London, so I spent a lot of time there, I guess. My parents aren't the academic type, so I had tutors. A lot of the material I was able to study on my own," she told him, bragging a little about her false home-schooling experience. Her voice assumed an almost wistful, sombre tone as she continued. "It's not the same as having friends you get to see every day, but I still made some great friends," she told them thinking of Harry and Ron. "We even had lessons together sometimes," she added truthfully, thinking back to some of the moments she had at Hogwarts with Ron and Harry.

He nodded. "That doesn't sound as dreadful as I thought it would be," he told her.

"Dreadful? What gave you that impression?" she asked him, surprised. She was also intrigued. The extent of her knowledge of Voldemort came from books and practical real life experience. This of course included Order meetings, which were always about him.

He shook his head, a dark look on his face. "It's irrelevant," he snapped. "It's not like I would have been home-schooled anyway. A descendant of Salazar Slytherin would never be home-schooled," he scoffed. His family's signet ring glinted in the sunlight filtering through the ancient library windows.

She was tempted to push the matter, but decided not to. She didn't know what that look had been, the one that had briefly clouded his otherwise handsome face, and she was almost afraid to find out. If he wasn't going to shed any light on himself, and continue being a secretive prat, perhaps she would have better luck talking to the other students who had spent the last seven years studying with him at Hogwarts. Sighing, outwardly she appeared to study ancient runes, whilst internally she was mulling over how – and who – she was going to approach on the subject of Tom Riddle.

* * *

Hey guys, this one was a whopper (length-wise) and was a really hard one to get started on. There are so many ways Hermione could have met Tom! And Tom could have been nice, evil, weird, crazy, or...anything! I hope you guys liked this chapter :-). As usual, I'd love some feedback, but that's up to you guys! Either way, I'm happy writing :D

It took a little longer to upload than I would have liked, and I apologise for this. Thankfully my exams are over (whew!) and barring the obstacle of being overseas for the next week (I'm going to Melbourne!) I will endeavour to get the next chapter up by the end of next week. If I get the chance to update while I'm away, I will, but I can't guarantee I'll have internet access.

Cheerios guys :-). And once again, thanks for reading!

PS: All characters you recognise from Harry Potter as written by JK Rowling don't belong to me, they belong to her! In this chapter, I only own Madam Tiddleplank!


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione sat on her bed, writing in the journal she had decided to keep since she had arrived in the past. She had never really seen the point of writing a journal in the future, but she thought it was likely a good place to write down everything she gathered about Tom Riddle. She was just finishing up her description of her study session with Tom, Mr. Seemingly-Secretive, Riddle.

Rose entered the seventh year girls' dormitory, a towel wrapped around her head. Clearly she had just had a shower.

"Hi, Hermione," she said, plopping own on her own bed. She unwrapped the towel and used it to towel-dry her hair.

"Hey Rose," Hermione replied.

A thought occurred to Hermione. Rose had a crush on Riddle; maybe she knew something that would help her understand what exactly was going on in the young dark lord's brain.

"Say, Rose," Hermione began, thinking up the words she was going to use in asking Rose. "Have you made much progress with Tom?"

Rose blushed. "Not really. I'm too shy to ask him out, what with him being such a hunk of heartbreak and all," she said.

A hunk of heartbreak? Hermione suppressed a giggle. Now that was a phrase she had rarely heard where she'd come from. Hot, sexy, chiseled were all words she had heard Ginny Weasley use to describe her various infatuations, but hunk of heartbreak was definitely a new one. She didn't think Tom was a hunk of heartbreak though. He was good at Ancient Runes, she had to admit, and was probably good at Arithmancy too, based on the little she had seen before he had hidden his parchment away on Sunday.

Rose glared at her, mistaking her suppressed giggle for mockery. "He's not half bad, you know. I realise Jonathan and Penny have probably told you all about the terrible things that have happened at Hogwarts, like Myrtle's murder last year, but Tom had nothing to do with any of that. If it was a student it was probably someone like Avery or one of the Notts," she said.

Hermione had, of course, heard of Myrtle's death by basilisk the previous year; she'd known about it even before she had been told by the other Gryffindors. That was already an indication in and of itself of what Tom might be like, but Hermione couldn't know for sure whether Tom had known what releasing the basilisk would do. She was curious about the other strange events, as well, however.

"What other strange things?" she asked Rose.

Rose sighed, muttering a quick spell to send her towel over to the towel-rail beside her bed. "Nothing too strange, really. All that happened – other than Myrtle's murder – could be described as incredibly badly-conceived pranks. I was exaggerating when I said they were horrible," she said. She assumed an air of dreaminess as she resumed. "Tom's not like those other Syltherins, though. He's always nice, polite, charming and…and just, he's such a mellow man," she said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was as bad as Pavarti or Ginny had been when they had been 'in love' at Hogwarts.

"He really isn't like the others, despite what you might think, him being descended from Salazar Slytherin and all. Besides, being in Slytherin isn't necessarily a bad thing, either – my brother Charlus's wife Dorea is lovely, and she's a Slytherin. Only the rotten ones like Lestrange, Mulcibur, and Rosier are all hung up on blood purity and go around hexing the muggle-borns," Rose added, scowling as she said the last sentence.

Hermione nodded. "I've had the misfortune of conversation with Leopold Rosier. He was a right plonker, drove me absolutely bonkers when I had to work with him in potions," she said.

Rose let out a laugh. "A plonker, and bonkers? That's a strange word. Does everyone who's been home-schooled use words like you do?"

"They're not as strange as words like mellow man and hunk of heartbreak," Hermione countered, grinning.

Rose grinned back. "Do you have a hunk of heartbreak you hold close to heart?" she teased, although there was a look of genuine curiosity apparent on her visage.

Hermione bit her lip, and couldn't help but think of Ron. She visibly assumed a colour of a earthworm flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean. "Sort of," she said.

A wide smile eclipsed Rose's face. "Do tell," she said.

"His name is Ron," she told him, multitudes of memories rising to the surface. "He's the same year as us. We studied together sometimes back when I was...home schooled. We never got around to dating though, and it's too late now for me to tell him how I feel," she told Rose.

"It's never too late, Hermione," Rose said.

"It is for us. I don't even know if I'll ever see him again," she said sadly, and truthfully.

Picking up on Hermione's depressed tone, Rose decided to console her. "Don't worry birdie, I'm sure you'll find another charming gentleman at Hogwarts. You've got three and a half houses worth of seventh years to choose from, after all."

Hermione offered her a small smile. She supposed Rose was right - she had no hope of returning to her time, and she wasn't planning on dying an old, single, virgin crone after all. She would have to find someone from the 40s, who used bizarre colloquialisms, because she simply had no choice. And she had plenty of years ahead of her, really. Unless she decided to avada kedavra Riddle. She shuddered. Azkaban definitely didn't appeal.

"Yeah, sure," she said to Rose. A change of subject would be nice, she thought. "Are you looking forward to going to Hogsmeade?" she asked.

They were scheduled to go to Hogsmeade this afternoon, just after lunch. Hermione, Rose and Beth were planning on going robes shopping - the first match in the Hogwarts Quidditch League was coming up (the rest had just been test matches) - and there was going to be a 'whoppingly Quidditch-ful bomb of a party' afterwards, to use Jonathan's words. He was the Gryffindor seeker, and he was incredibly amped up. To kick things off with a bang, the first match was of course to be between Gryffindor and Slytherin. That kind of a match was bound to lead to some healthy (and unhealthy, in Hermione's honest opinion) competition amongst students, even among those who weren't in the two houses. It was the match that the behind-the-scenes student betting ring always made the most money on as well, because Slytherin's always bet on their team winning, and coming from mainly pure-blood families they had multitudes of moolah at their disposal. This helped fuel interest from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students who were keen to make an extra buck as well.

Anyhow, back to the subject of Hogsmeade. And Rose's reply, of course.

"Certainly," Rose said excitedly. "I've had my eye on a set of robes in Frau Pashmina's Magnificent Magical Garments for a while. They're made by Andromeda Dalgety, a British witch whose robes are all the rage at the moment. Of course for quality you have to pay a decent amount, but it's definitely worth it in my view," she said.

"They sound great," Hermione said. "I don't know much about designer robes as we didn't really have many parties back home. Sort of comes hand in hand with being home-schooled, I guess," she said.

Rose took this as an opportunity to educate Hermione on the latest and greatest fashion trends in the 1940s wizarding world. Hermione was sort of interested, but not really. She wished she could go study and work on her ancient runes project or something. Anything but talk about fashion. A saving consideration was the fact that she did need to find a set of robes for a party, having barely anything other than the stock standard Hogwarts school uniform provided by Dumbledore, and she had plenty of galleons to spend thanks to Dumbledore's generous allowance to her.

* * *

Hogsmeade hadn't changed all that much, really, from what Hermione remembered of it. All the basic structures were still there, but they had different names. The proprietors had obviously changed various times up until Hermione's past/future time, as was normal in the muggle and wizarding worlds, so she shouldn't really have felt surprised.

Rose and Beth had dragged her into the robe store Rose had mentioned earlier, and Rose had of course squealed with glee and immediately tried on the magnolia robes she had gushed about to Hermione. After she had purchased the robes and an arrangement had been made with Frau Pashmina to have them safely delivered to Hogwarts, Rose devoted her full attentions to choosing robes for both Beth and Hermione.

From what Rose had elaborately explained to Hermione earlier in the day, Hermione understood Andromeda Dalgety to be a designer on par with, say, Prada, in her own past/future. Rose was a Potter, which was a rich pure-blooded family (well, until Harry was born and his parents horrifically murdered), so to her it wasn't much to spend on a set of robes - the amount barely dented her monthly allowance.

While Hermione did have a rather large amount of money set aside thanks to Dumbledore, she didn't feel right spending it on something so...wasteful. Or so Hermione felt spending 20 galleons on robes would be (it was amazing how inflation would affect the galleon in years to come!). Eventually, she settled on a set of robes which were a colour that was in-between turquoise and emerald. It wasn't too expensive, it was moderately stylish, and most importantly Rose's high street fashion standards weren't too impinged upon by Hermione's purchase.

Rose had wanted to go to 'Sweet Decadence: Magical Sweets and Treats, but Hermione and Beth were absolutely famished because of their experience shopping for robes. And so it was that they peer pressured Rose into going to 'Wiggamore's Wizarding Tavern'.

Wiggies was a lot like a Muggle pub; it served hearty fare and decent drinks, both of which were important to most Hogwarts students generally. As such, it was popular with most of the students, and this day was no different from any other in that respect: students were tucked into virtually every nook and cranny of the building. It had been magically extended so that the absolute maximum number of chairs and tables could be crammed into the pub, and those were especially on days like this.

Hermione, Rose and Beth were waiting in the queue for a table in the bustling pub. Eventually, a couple of seats became available, but only if the three girls were willing to share their table with a number of other patrons. They agreed; Hermione and Beth didn't mind, but Rose was somewhat reluctant. She grumbled something along the lines of, "We could go to Sweet Decadence instead..." but Hermione and Beth were set on Wiggies.

The waiter showed them to their table, and once they had sat down at their half of the table, handed out to them each a menu, along with some cutlery and napkins. Hermione took a while to make her choice - scrumptious fish and chips with a pint of butter beer - and as she was just about done choosing her meal, she heard a hiss coming from Rose.

"Pssst, Hermione," Rose whispered, holding her menu up to hide her whispering from someone (Hermione didn't know who). "It's You-Know-Who over there!"

How did Rose know about Voldemort?! Hermione thought, alarmed. She then looked across the table, to find Tom Riddle gazing back at her across the table. She alchuckled under her breath - Rose was just using code to refer to Riddle He was seated with two boys she recognised as Abraxas Malfoy and Centurius Black. They had just received their meals (or so it seemed, else they were all incredibly slow or light eaters) and there was a large jug of butter beer which they were evidently sharing.

"Hi Tom," Hermione said, smiling.

Tom flicked her a smile in return. "Hermione," he greeted her in a friendly voice.

There was a slight awkward silence, and Hermione winced as Rose's heel dug into her toe.

"This is Rose Potter," she said, motioning towards Rose. "And this is Beth," Hermione introduced Beth, who was seated on her other side.

"A pleasure to meet the both of you, ladies," Tom said, nodding at both of them. "This is Abraxas," he said, nudging the blond haired boy on his left, "And this is Centurius."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said. She wasn't entirely sure how keen she was on getting to know one of Draco Malfoy's ancestors, especially one that could be his doppelganger. She could have sworn the Malfoys were part veela, they were all so eerily good-looking, with their slicked blond hair, high cheekbones and divinely sculptured features. The Malfoys reminded her a lot of Fleur Delacour, really, the part veela girl from Beauxbatons who had come to Hogwarts for the Triwazard Tournament.

The waiter came, and the three girls quickly placed their orders. Rose glanced pointedly, as if to ask Hermione how in Merlin's name she knew Tom Riddle on a first name basis.

She decided to offer Rose an explanation. It would at least remedy the awkward silence around the table - Gryffindors and Slytherins were not normally the type to share a meal at the same table. There was a reason why the tables which sat the two houses were not seated close to each other in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

"Tom and I have been working on our Ancient Runes assignment together. There was a book at the library that the both of us really wanted to use, so we worked out a compromise," she explained. The waiter returned with their drinks, and Hermione gulped down a mouthful of butter beer. She turned to Tom. "Rose doesn't do Ancient Runes, but she's in our Advanced Potions, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic classes," she told him.

She hoped this would be enough for Rose to start a conversation with Tom. She knew for a fact that Tom didn't end up with anyone in the future, or at least not with a Potter, so she didn't see the harm in helping her fulfil her teenage crush on the raven haired Slytherin.

"Oh yeah, I believe I do remember you from some of those classes. In Advanced Potions Professor Frankston awarded you an Outstanding for that love potion you brewed last year, didn't he?" Tom asked Rose.

A shade of rosey pink settled on Rose's cheeks. "Yeah, that was me," she said, embarrassed. She didn't want him thinking she was the kind to go around using love potions on people. "Congratulations on getting head prefect," she said, unable to think of anything else to say.

Their awkward exchange was interrupted by Centurius Black, who had a mouthful of mutton pie in his piehole. "Oi, you're the one whose brother married that awful sister of mine, aren't you?" he asked her.

Lily glared at him. "I personally think Dorea is quite lovely, especially considering she's related to a scumbag like you," she replied scathingly.

Centurius glared back at her. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then instead grumbled something under breath, and returned to his meal. Unbeknownst to Hermione, Rose and Beth, Tom had kicked Centurius under the table to silence him. It wouldn't do to have Centurius tarnishing Tom's perfectly crafted image by spouting on about his blood purity ideologies.

Tom chuckled. "I do apologised for Centurius's comment regarding your sister-in-law. He is oft known to speak his mind without pausing to consider his thoughts first," he said graciously.

Rose seemed as if she were going to faint at Tom's words. Swooning was an apt word to describe her, and it was rather hilarious in Hermione's opinion, considering how she had been ready to throttle Centurius just moments earlier. She was half-tempted to roll her eyes, but it probably wouldn't be polite - and wouldn't help Rose in her quest for romance.

"In fact, let us make it up to you," Tom continued. "I'm sure Centurius and Malfoy would view it as entirely necessary to take the three of you to Sweet Decadence in order to make amends," he said.

Rose's eyes widened. She wasn't able to voice her obvious excitement and agreement with Tom's offer.

"We'd love to," Beth said, interjecting on behalf of Rose with a cheeky, knowing smile directed at the two other girls.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed this :-). It's really cool writing - really enjoying it. Sort of like reading a book or playing a game where you get to decide what happens to your characters. Lol!


	6. Chapter 6

After that fateful encounter with Tom at Wiggies, and the subsequent sort-of 'date' that had taken place at Sweet Decadence afterwards, Rose's dreams began to come true. It all happened rather abruptly, really, such that it was not more than a week or so after that Hogsmeade weekend when Tom and Rose officially became a couple at Hogwarts. They were virtually inseparable, spending nearly every waking moment together. As much as Hermione wondered whether it was all a ruse (on Tom's part), she couldn't help but think that it was all potentially very real. This, in turn, made her wonder whether she had in fact changed the course of time by being sent _back_ in time and setting the two of them up.

Despite all this, she had resigned herself to the understanding that even if she _had_ changed time, it was undoubtedly for the better, because a Tom Riddle in love with Rose Potter would definitely not lead to an evil, terrible, twisted Dark Lord with a hatred of muggle-borns.

It did make things rather lonelier, though, with Rose always out with her Slytherin beau. It left Beth and Hermione essentially to themselves. They also rarely saw Penelope Weasley or Jonathan Longbottom much because they were dating. This saddened Hermione slightly, although she was consoled by the fact that she had gained a seemingly nice new friend – all thanks to Tom, strangely. Her new friend was none other than Abraxas Malfoy, an ancestor of the 'ferret' who had been in her year group in the _future_ Hogwarts.

While Hermione still studied ancient runes with Tom (it was one of the few times she saw him without Rose – Rose couldn't stand runes), she had started doing group study with Abraxas as well. Abraxas had proved to be as intelligent as his future descendant Draco, if not even more intelligent, and Hermione appreciated having someone of similar intellectual ability (who was not joined at the hip to a girl) to talk to.

In fact, Abraxas had invited her to study herbology with him at the greenhouses before lunch, and she had readily agreed. Hermione wrote a final sentence in her diary, put everything away, and hurried along to meet him.

* * *

Abraxas was sitting on a bench by the North Eastern entrance to the glasshouse, clearly deeply engrossed in a book.

Hermione chuckled, and this caused him to start and look up at her abruptly.

"Good afternoon," he greeted her, smiling.

"Hi," she returned, plopping down on the bench beside him. She peeked over his shoulder intrusively, curious as to what book he was reading. It was _Parseltongue: La Langue Des Serpents. _

Hermione frowned. "What are you reading about Parseltongues for?" she asked him, almost in a mocking tone of voice.

He shrugged. "Tom gave it to me last Christmas," he told her. "I have resigned myself to the fact that if I don't read the book, he'll almost certainly be insulted. I would swear an oath that he can gaze into one's eyes and read one's mind at times," he said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "A book on Parseltongues for _Christmas_? Surely _no one_ would want to read something so dry during the festive season," she said.

She knew that Tom was a Parseltongue – she had learnt all about that following the incident at dueling during which Harry had randomly started speaking Parseltongue to Draco's conjured snake – but she couldn't think of any reason why he'd give a book about the language to Abraxas. She noted down mentally that she would have to add this to the list of information she had concerning Tom Riddle.

Abraxas chuckled. "I don't know, Hermione. Tom does have very peculiar tastes, after all. However, the same could be asked of why Rose decided to give you that particular edition of _Wanda's Witch Weekly_ as well," he said, grinning.

Hermione glared at him. "What are you trying to get at?" she asked him angrily.

Normally, Wanda's Witch Weekly essentially contained articles about fashion, witch celebrities, handsome, hunky wizards and the odd recipe. The edition Rose had given Hermione had been a special one, with the majority of it devoted to articles on how to acquire love - and perfect cleaning spells. Hermione sort of knew where Rose was coming from with regards to the articles about love, but Hermione didn't see the purpose of being given a magazine with cleaning spells filling up a third of its pages! She personally thought that cleaning spells, while useful for cleaning, were useless for everything else in general, so she refused to learn any at all.

"Nothing," he replied. Standing up, he gestured at the greenhouse. "Shall we?"

"Sure," she replied, following him.

They spent a great deal of time studying the various exotic plants which were going to be in their mid-year examination, drawing diagrams and practicing various planting (and excavation) methods. They weren't the only ones in the greenhouse when they first began, but when they were finishing up they had the greenhouse to themselves.

"You know, Hermione, I've been meaning to ask you something," Abraxas said.

They were completing a diagram of _Saintpaulius Sanitatum_, a variant of the common house plant the _Saintpaulius_ (the African Violet) which had extraordinary magical healing properties along with leaves the size of a fully inflated balloon. She sketched a dozen more thin, long hairs onto the plant before looking up at him.

She raised a bushy, brown eyebrow at him. "O-kay," she said, drawing out the o.

"Will you go with me to the after-party this Saturday, following the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin?" he asked, a rosey tinge to his cheeks.

Hermione froze, blinking a half dozen times. Was Abraxas Malfoy – grandfather to _Draco _Malfoy – asking her on a date? Aside from the fact that technically entering into a relationship with him would be in violation of the old dating rule that in order to date someone you could be no younger than half the age of your date plus one, and despite his sort-of kinship with the Malfoy she knew and hated, she couldn't think of a reason to turn him down. She did genuinely like him – as a friend, that was – and she could try out those tips she had read in that magazine Rose had given her.

Abraxus had begun biting his lower lip, his face growing an ever-darkening shade of embarrassed red.

"I don't mean to be too forward," he said, looking at the ground.

Hermione almost giggled. He looked too cute, and his expression was one that she had never expected to see on a Malfoy. "I'd love to," she told him.

His eyes met her at once, and he broke out in a wide, joyous grin.

"However, just because I'm going to the after-party as your date doesn't mean I'm not going to be cheering for Gryffindor. This doesn't change anything," she told him cheekily.

"Of course it doesn't," he said, returning to his usual, smooth demeanor.

His face had almost resumed its usual, alabaster colour, and he slowly slicked his silver-blond hair back with his hands. He looked so relieved, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. He shot her a jokingly scathing look, and after packing their respective belongings away, held hands as they returned to the main castle for lunch.

* * *

Before long it was Saturday, and the Quidditch stands were packed with students watching the first official match between Gryffindor and Slytherin for the year. Gryffindor was in the lead, and the commentator Pythagion Gurrilas – a fourth year Slytherin – was spouting slanderous, anti-Gryffindor commentary in an almost continuous flow. Hermione personally thought that he was a bit like Lee Jordan had been, in her time, but his comments were a lot more malicious. He had badmouthed everyone in the Gryffindor team except Rose, and Hermione suspected this was only out of respect to Tom.

Abraxas had waved at her at the beginning of the match, and Hermione had felt a slight flutter in her abdomen as he had done so. He was very, very gorgeous, with his perfectly fitting green Quidditch robes, and golden locks which would have made any shampoo model jealous.

The whistle to end the match sounded, and Hermione realized that Gryffindor must have lost, somehow. Squinting at the pitch, she saw the snitch had been caught – by Abraxas. She couldn't boo with the rest of the Gryffindors, but neither could she cheer too loudly. She did smile at him when he caught her eye, and gave him the thumbs up along with a wave, actively defying the Gryffindors around her who glared at her as she did so. She was almost thankful that she was his date for the after-party, because she doubted hanging out with the Gryffindors would be very exciting given their present lack of cheer due to the their teams unexpected defeat.

* * *

Despite Gryffindor's loss, all the girls – particularly Rose, Hermione and Penelope – were excited about the after party. Hermione had styled her hair in victory rolls, because she decided that she was there to party with one of the victors, at least, and had always admired Ingrid Bergman's hair in Casablanca (an old muggle movie from the 1940s).

The girls had helped each other pluck their eyebrows well, and then brushed over them with matte shadows. Hermione's brows were clearly defined, thanks to a pencil, and they had all used a little bit of petroleum jelly to curve their eyebrows upwards. She had also used some dark eyeliner, followed by a little bit of eyeshadow.

They had all elected to use a luscious red lipstick, although Hermione's was a brighter shade of red than the other girls – they all thought she was rather daring!

All in all, she thought she was appropriately dressed for the occasion: her robes green, her lipstick and eye shadow shades of red, and her nails a combination of gold and silver. While representing Gryffindor house, she felt she would be able to blend in fairly well with Abraxas' Slytherin crowd if the need arose.

Completing the last finishing touches, the girls gathered their purses and headed to the great hall for the after party.

* * *

The great hall was lit up in Slytherin colours: there were green pumpkin lanterns illuminating the large space, and silver roses and various other flowers providing decoration. There were also Quidditch-themed decorations in the form of various silver snitches flitting around the room, and broomsticks set up near the entrance in case students decided to go for a fly during (or after) the party.

Rose, Penelope, Beth and Hermione each drank champagne and partook in small talk until each of their beaus had come and whisked the girls away in turn. The first to arrive was Tom, Rose's date. He was dressed in strapping Brunswick green dress robes, and smiled so pleasantly at his date when he saw her that Hermione forgot – just for a moment – who he was (most probably still) destined to become. The couple almost immediately found their way to the dance floor, after which Hermione was unable to further watch their movements.

This was because she had been gladly interrupted by Abraxas. He was incredibly dashing, with his black velvet robes providing a stark contrast to his pale skin and gold-silver hair. His facial features were more refined than Dracos had been, as if they had been carved in accordance with an artist's plan for a magnificent sculpture of an almost inhumanly beautiful human-being.

Taking her right hand in his, Abraxas raised it to his mouth and kissed it lightly, before lifting his sapphire-blue eyes to meet her hazelnut ones.

"You look amazing," he complimented her.

"Y-you do too," Hermione stuttered in response, still overwhelmed by his stunning appearance.

At last she saw something that reminded her of Draco which brought her back to the present (or rather, the past): he had smirked.

"Thank you," he replied. He offered her his arm. "Shall we dance?" he asked.

Hermione bit her lower lip. "Let's," she agreed eagerly.

They danced to swing dances, none that Hermione really recognized, although one reminded her of _East Coast Swing_. This was, of course, after they had danced along to half a dozen waltzes and consumed multiple flutes of champagne which had been charmed to look like Quicksilver. She was incredibly tipsy by the time they danced along to the final jitterbug of the night (the magical band then reverted to more 'serious' dances like the tango), and did not object when Abraxas led her out to onto a balcony.

Hermione's face was flushed, and she let out a giggle as she slapped him playfully in the chest.

"What?" he asked her innocently, raising a perfectly shaped golden arch.

She responded with another giggle. "Y-y-you!" she giggled, poking him and giving him a mischievous grin. She lost her balance momentarily, and fell forward into his arms.

"Whoa, careful," he said, helping her regain her balance. He had caught her elegantly, with the only sign of his slight inebriation the slight flush which had crept up on his neck just above his collar.

"You know, Abraxas," Hermione began, looking somewhat thoughtful.

"Mmhmm?" he said.

"It's not too bad, really, this whole 1940s Hogwarts business," she told him.

"Is it not?" he asked her, with no idea what she was going on about. He assumed she meant that it wasn't that bad when compared with homeschooling.

"Mmmhmmmmm," she drew out. A shadow fell over her face, the corners of her mouth turned downwards ever so slightly in a frown. It was as if she was remembering something melancholic.

Abraxas decided to draw her closer to him, and divert her thoughts to something merrier. He pointed at a cluster of stars, all on their own in a corner of the sky.

"Have you ever seen these stars before, Hermione?" he asked her, using his wand to magnify the luminous, hot blue stars. To Hermione, they reminded her of blue traffic lights at night which were incredibly bright but had gone all blurry due to of rain.

"No," she told him. "They look like blue traffic lights!" she blurted out. She had had maybe a few too many glasses of champagne.

Abraxas acted as if he understood what she meant, nodding. "These are the Pleiades, or the Seven Witches," he said. "My family has a myth about them that has been passed down for generations. Would you like to hear it?" he asked her.

She smiled at him. "I'd love to," she said. Astrology wasn't one of her strong points, and she was always open to increasing her knowledge in areas she had not comprehensively studied. It definitely beat thinking about Ron and Harry, too.

"Once upon a time, there were seven great pure blood wizarding families in England. The Malfoys, the Blacks, the Crouches, the Gaunts, the Prewetts, the Longbottoms and the Weasleys. In each of these families, there was an eldest son, who is said to have been incredibly handsome," he narrated.

She snorted in a very unladylike way. "Sorry, go on," she said.

He shook his head in amusement and then continued. "There was no witch in all of England who was beautiful enough to match these very eligible bachelors. Despite many attempts, none of these young wizards would accept offers of betrothal, even from ancient families like Slytherin and Gryffindor.

These young men decided to go abroad in order to find a beauty for each of them to marry and bring back to England. Malfoy went to France; Black went to Siberia; Crouch went to Germany; Gaunt went to America; Prewett went to Australia; Longbottom went to Ireland; and Weasley went to Scotland. One by one, they found exotic beauties, married them, and brought them back home to the England. My own ancestor, Abraxas Scorpius Malfoy, married a beautiful lady who was said to have bottomless eyes like the Atlantic Ocean and hair as fine and luxurious as silk threads.

However, everyone soon realized something was amiss. These handsome young men began losing their youth, and their beauty soon began to fade. The elder wizards of the seven families convened in secret, and decided that these brides from abroad were undoubtedly the cause," he told her.

Her eyes widened. "Then what happened?" she asked him, eager to find out what happened. She was curious to know what kind of magic these women would have used.

"The seven wives and their grooms were invited to a celebration, purportedly to congratulate them on their marriages. However, the elders used a revealing spell on the seven women. Everyone soon realized that these women were not real witches; in fact, they were veela. Realizing they had been revealed for what they truly were, the veela transformed into harpies and attempted to flee from their drained husbands.

However, they were too slow, and six of them were hit by the killing curse. One of them was not hit – my ancestress, Charysse Malfoy – but only because my namesake had shielded the curse meant to end her life. Instead, what was meant to be the killing curse transformed, becoming a curse which stripped her of everything except her beauty. She returned to her human form, and was forever trapped.

She stayed with my ancestor, out of gratitude to him for saving her life. I personally like to think she stayed because she loved him," he said.

"So how is this related to the stars?" Hermione asked him.

"I was getting there, dove," he said. He used his wand to hone in on six of the brightest stars in the cluster. "It is said that those six stars are the souls of those veela, and that they continue to shine brightly to this very day because of the life essence which they sucked out of their human lovers," he finished.

They gazed at the sky together for a while longer, before returning to the great hall and joining their fellow students for a final dance

* * *

- Ingrid Bergman - name/nm0000006/?ref_=tt_cl_t2

- The myth which Abraxas tells Hermione is based loosely on a Maori myth about Matariki (the Pleiades)

I'm so glad I finally have my writing muse back! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was a joy to write – although difficult to begin, and of course, difficult to end. I am very excited about writing the next chapter, so you shouldn't have to wait too long for it (I'm thinking, maybe a week, tops).

Let me know if you have any suggestions!

~DulcineaChampagne


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